Music We Can Dance To
by Clara Barton
Summary: AU. Forced into taking dance lessons with Hilde, Duo is given the chance to learn that sometimes all you need is the right partner.


Notes: I know that this is NOT an update of any of the infinite (5) things I've got in progress right now, but I wanted to sort of get back in the saddle again and thought that writing a nice angsty little fic would help me get back into writing. Do not fear, updates are coming next – for everything. This will just be 2 chapters. Just 2.

Inspired by Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing & Charm School, but it doesn't follow that plot or those characters at all, in fact, the only thing it has in common with the movie is a ballroom dancing and charm school, attended by awkward people who just don't fit in. I just love that movie and I love angst (me? Love angst? Who would have ever guessed), so there you go.

Also: I know nothing about ballroom/competitive dancing. Or dancing of any kind, so I'm going to be spare on the details – sorry all you dancers out there.

The title is a lyric from a song by The Strokes (I'll Try Anything).

Warnings: Angst, language, bit of violence, yaoi

Pairings: 2x3x2, 4x5, 1x? and others

As always, a special thank you to Cuzo for making sure my shoelaces are tied and that my socks match - but in serious, thank you for always making sure my work is at its best.

**Music We Can Dance To**

Duo's shoes didn't fit.

It wasn't the feeling of new shoes that were too tight and just needed to be broken in. The black loafers he wore had seen their fair amount of wear, judging by the scuffs along the sides of the faded leather, but the solid, wooden soles on the bottom were still intact and Hilde had insisted that he needed hard soled shoes. Of course, Hilde had no idea what size shoe Duo wore and the result was Duo's feet shoved into a pair of shoes two sizes too small.

He tried shifting his weight, trying to find room for his toes, but that only resulted in more pain.

His battered sneakers had never looked so inviting or so damn comfortable, but Duo knew that if he was wearing those when Hilde picked him up she would never let him walk out of the house.

Sneakers, apparently, weren't appropriate for dance classes.

An ex-con taking dance classes. Duo was sure that sure that someone would find that funny. Hell, if his feet didn't hurt so much _he_ would find it funny.

But his feet were killing him and he felt like an idiot dressed up in the gray chinos, black dress shirt and itchy as hell black sweater Hilde had found for him at Salvation Army, and he couldn't find a lot of humor in _anything_ at the moment.

In keeping with her usual style, Hilde didn't arrive at the house until 5:15, which meant that she had fifteen minutes to get out of her scrubs, into clean clothes, and drive them across town to the dance school.

And in keeping with Duo's lifelong lack of luck, her arrival coincided with that of Alex, Hilde's less than useless boyfriend.

So Duo sat outside on the front stoop for twenty minutes trying his best not to listen to the couple scream at each other. He tried to distract himself from their argument by focusing on his feet, willing his toes to ignore the cramped space inside the shoes and get past the pain of bones being crushed. It was no use, and after a few minutes he just took the damn shoes off and set them down on the step beside him.

He massaged his feet through his socks and luxuriated in the feeling of freedom.

Hilde suddenly burst out of the front door, the frame hitting Duo solidly in the back of the head, and stormed down the steps towards her car.

Alex came barreling out after her.

"Stop being such a stupid bitch, Hilde! You can't control what I do!" His words brought Hilde to a sudden halt and she turned around.

"And you don't control me!" Hilde hissed back, her face red and her posture defensive as she scanned the nearby houses for nosey neighbors.

"Then shut the fuck up about me going out to drink with Jenny! You go have your fun with your fag and leave me alone! I don't need this shit! You're not even –"

"Hey, chill out," Duo suggested as he stood up and put himself between Alex and Hilde.

Alex shoved him away.

"Fuck you. No one asked you for your opinion, you piece of shit. All you do is mooch off Hilde, you worthless convict. You can't even get a real job and –"

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"Sure, but at least I don't shout at my girlfriend in the middle of the driveway where everyone can hear what an asshole I am."

"Girlfriend?" Alex snorted. "You're such a flaming queer that no chick would ever –"

Duo rolled his eyes.

"You're missing my point, genius. Stop shouting at Hilde in the fucking driveway."

"Or what?" Alex shoved Duo again. "What the fuck are _you_ going to do about it? What'd they teach you do to in prison? Bend over and take it like the –"

"Stop it!" Hilde grabbed Duo from behind and pulled him towards the car. "Stop being such a fucking prick, Alex!"

"Run along to your ballet class, faggot!" Alex taunted as Hilde opened the door and none too gently shoved Duo into the passenger seat of the car.

"It's ballroom dancing!" Hilde corrected as she walked around the car and got into the driver seat.

Duo winced. That really didn't sound better than ballet at all.

Hilde put the car in drive and sped out of the driveway and down the road.

"I'm really sorry about that," she muttered.

Duo didn't really know how to respond to her apology – it wasn't her fault that Alex was such a waste of carbon. Then again, he had to wonder what exactly she saw in him.

He had only been staying with Hilde for three weeks, ever since she had made the four hour drive to pick him up from prison on his release date, but Alex had been a complete dick on day one and things hadn't changed since. He knew that some of Alex's behavior stemmed from Duo's presence, but the way he treated Hilde and spoke to her seemed to indicate that he had been an asshole for a while now.

"He's just going through a rough patch, you know? His Dad has cancer and Alex didn't get that promotion he thought he would and –"

"And I'm here, in the way, mooching off you just like he said," Duo helpfully added.

"No! You aren't! Look, you've got a job –"

"Yeah, my part time, less than minimum wage job busing tables at the bar down the street. That's definitely a huge contribution to society. I can't even afford to pay you anything in rent! I can barely afford groceries and –" he plucked at the sweater he was wearing –"you even have to clothe me!"

"Duo –"

"No, Hilde, _I'm_ sorry. _I'm_ the one making a mess of everything. You don't need to apologize to me – especially not for someone else."

"You're doing the best you can, Duo. You just got out of prison. Give it time."

She sounded on the verge of tears, which didn't do much to give him hope, but shook him out of his own self-loathing enough that he turned towards her.

"You're right. This ballroom dancing shit is probably going to make me famous. I've always had smooth moves – hell, maybe I can be on Dancing With the Stars next season."

Hilde rolled her eyes and smirked at him, some of the anger and depression leaving her face.

"As if. You're probably the worst dancer I've ever met – why do you think I insisted you take this class with me?"

"Because you won dance lessons in a shitty contest and everyone else said no way quicker than I did?"

"Well, _besides _that. Uh – I think this is it."

Hilde pulled to a stop in front of an ancient Victorian house that looked more like it belonged to relatives of the Addams family. A sign in the front lawn was badly in need of repainting, but Duo could just make out the words _Anastasia Bloom's Ballroom Dancing and Charm School_.

"_And_ Charm School?" Duo read aloud and gave Hilde an alarmed look. "_And_ Charm School."

Hilde pocketed her keys and gave Duo a look that he had learned to give in to at the age of seven.

"It's going to be fun," she insisted in a commanding tone of voice. "It has to be. I need some goddamned fun right now."

Duo reluctantly opened his door and stepped down onto the street, mentally preparing himself for Hilde's version of fun.

And that's when he realized his shoes were still on the front stoop of Hilde's house.

* * *

"Welcome to the Anastasia Bloom Ballroom Dancing and Charm School. I am Catherine Bloom and I am here to honor my mother's legacy and share with each of you the wonderful gift of _dance_. Over the next six weeks you will learn the steps for the Waltz, the Tango, the Foxtrot, the Quickstep, the Rumba and the Mambo. By the time you graduate from this school you will have mastered the most elegant and _passionate_ dances in the world. You will discover in yourself a new sense of rhythm, a love of movement, and above all else – a connection. A connection to music, to your surroundings, to your partner."

It was a good speech, and Catherine had spent years perfecting it so that by the end, the entire crowd of awkward new students were looking at each other and instead of looking mildly embarrassed to be there, were actually looking excited.

Trowa had watched his sister give this speech countless times, and the transformation among the students always amused him.

The new students tonight looked to be the same strange mix they usually got – there was an elderly couple who, despite their advanced age and soft bodies looked completely in love with each other; a young couple about to be married, the blonde bride looking thrilled to be there and the dark haired groom looking a little belligerent; an elegant married couple who looked desperate to find some new interest they could share; a young, attractive gay couple, a blond man who looked anxious and hopeful and an Asian man who looked just as belligerent as the groom to be; and of course there was Howard, the middle aged man who wore appalling shirts and enrolled in session after session just so he could dance with Catherine. They were missing a couple, but that wasn't unusual. They usually had two or three couples who signed up and then dropped out before the first class.

"This is my brother, Trowa." Catherine gestured towards him and Trowa obligingly bowed to the students. "He is a fabulous instructor and he will work with you, as will I, to ensure that you become the best dancer you could ever want to be."

Catherine gestured again and Trowa moved to the side of the room to cue up his iPod playlist.

"This evening we will begin with the waltz. This is the King of dances and one of the most elegant and romantic dances."

Trowa waited for the familiar chords of Shubert to begin before he walked back to Catherine.

She gestured for the students to stand to the sides of the ballroom and then stood in the center.

Trowa approached and bowed to her as she curtsied and then took her in his arms. As they demonstrated the steps of the dance Trowa allowed himself a moment to appreciate the irony in all of this.

Seven years ago he had left home for college, intent on never returning to this small town and never dancing another step in this room. But then his mother had gotten sick. Catherine had begged him to return home and, eventually, he had. Just in time to help Catherine make funeral arrangements and just in time to learn that his pregnant sister's deadbeat boyfriend had skipped town.

For the past year Trowa had helped his sister run this nightmare of a dance school. He had promised himself he would stay just long enough so that she could figure out how to manage everything – the school, her life, her daughter's life – on her own.

But when they danced like this, in front of the students, demonstrating the steps that their mother had drilled into them almost as soon as they could walk, that was when Catherine seemed to need him the most. Her hands gripped him so tightly it almost hurt, and Trowa knew it wasn't because she had forgotten their mother's admonitions about not manhandling your partner.

They finished the demonstration and the students applauded, some politely, a few rather enthusiastically.

"Now," Catherine gestured to the students, "stand facing your partner with this much space between you," she stepped back from Trowa to demonstrate.

"Miss Catherine," Howard spoke up, "I seem to be without a partner again."

Trowa barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but Catherine smiled gamely and walked over to the man.

"Then, once again, I would be delighted to partner with you."

"Now, listen to the music and –"

Just as Catherine started to speak a young man and woman walked into the ballroom.

"I'm sorry," the woman said when Catherine stopped to look at them. "We're late. I'm Hilde Schiebeker and –"

"Of course, dear," Catherine smiled patiently. "Please, join us. We were just about to begin our lesson on the waltz."

The two newcomers looked around the room and then at each other before moving to an open spot on the floor and trying to mirror the pose everyone else had assumed.

These two, Trowa decided, did _not_ fit into the standard, eclectic mix of students.

He remembered the woman's name – she was a nurse who had won six weeks of free lessons from the local radio station. Her short, dark hair had streaks of purple in it, and even her dress and dark eyeliner seemed to suggest a punk-rock attitude that was at odds with a ballroom dance school.

The man looked even more out of place. His clothes looked a little large on him, making his frame almost completely shapeless and his entire body language practically screamed his discomfort. Trowa was mildly intrigued by the braid of hair that fell to the middle of the man's back – he didn't look as hardcore as his girlfriend or like much of a biker, and those were the two groups Trowa most associated long hair with. Perhaps the most striking thing about the man, however, was the fact that he wasn't wearing shoes.

Just as Trowa tried to force his gaze away from the man and put his mind back on dancing, the man caught him staring.

Trowa was confronted with a dark indigo gaze that was simultaneously challenging and embarrassed.

He wanted to look away, but now that he was looking at the man's face he was even more intrigued. His features were nearly androgynous, with only his strong jaw and wide, thin lips giving him a more masculine edge.

As Trowa continued to stare, the man's gaze lost some of its anger and a crease formed between his eyebrows. He was clearly wondering why he was trapped in a staring contest with Trowa.

"Now, you try." Catherine's voice broke into his thoughts and Trowa realized that, while he had been staring at the two newcomers, she had continued to give instructions to the students.

He shook himself. There was no point in even admitting to himself that, despite the lack of shoes and horrible clothes, he found the other man attractive. He had a girlfriend and was, therefore, both straight and taken.

Trowa forced himself to walk around the perimeter of the room, stepping in to adjust the students' hands and bodies and offer words of encouragement. He tried to keep a wide berth of the new couple, even though he knew it wasn't strictly fair for him to ignore them.

He approached the gay couple and watched them dance for a few moments.

The Asian man was leading, but he moved as though he was dragging the other man along with him, instead of guiding a partner. This resulted in both of them looking awkward and miserable.

Trowa stepped in.

"I'm sorry, Mr. -?"

"Winner," the blond answered with an enthusiastic smile. "I'm Quatre Winner and this is Wufei Chang. But don't call us Mr.! Just Quatre and Wufei."

Trowa nodded.

"Of course. Wufei, when you lead your partner, you want to make it a partnership. When you lead, you take the first steps – but your steps aren't the only steps."

The Asian man's eyes narrowed.

"Obviously, it takes two to dance," he responded.

"Exactly," Trowa agreed. He turned to Quatre. "Allow me?"

The blond man shot a look back at Wufei, who offered a negligent shrug, and Quatre held his hands out to Trowa.

He led them through a few steps of the dance and he could tell that Quatre immediately felt the difference between Trowa and Wufei. The blond man smiled again and his cheeks actually flushed slightly.

"That was, um, really great," Quatre said when Trowa stopped them beside Wufei.

"It looked the same as what we were doing," Wufei insisted. "I _know_ the steps."

"It _felt_ different," Quatre insisted.

Trowa nodded.

"Like two people were dancing?" he suggested.

"Exactly!" Quatre agreed enthusiastically.

Wufei's face reddened and Trowa decided that he should probably move on.

"Try to dance together, like that," he said and stepped back.

Wufei regarded him with a cool glare as Quatre stepped back into his arms.

Trowa watched them dance again, noticing that Wufei seemed just as stiff and forceful as before, but that Quatre's enthusiasm was actually making the other man react to his moves instead of just propelling Quatre around without thought.

It was a start, he decided.

The other couples took his suggestions and corrections much easier than Wufei had, and after twenty minutes almost everyone was dancing with great improvement.

"Excellent!" Catherine announced and everyone came to a stop.

Many couples exchanged smiles, a few – the young blonde girl and dark haired man especially – glared at each other.

"Now, for the last few minutes of class each session we will switch partners, so that you may try your skills out. Please, find a new partner and let us dance a final waltz for the evening."

Trowa watched as everyone nervously wandered about, pairing up with someone new, until only Wufei and the braided man were left without partners.

Wufei folded his arms over his chest and gave the other man a long, narrow eyed once-over.

"There wouldn't be any point in the two of us dancing," Wufei pointed out, "we can't _both_ lead."

The other man scratched at the back of his head, the expression on his face both irritated and amused.

"Damn, dude, that's a really good point, it's like – damn. One of us would have to give up being the lead. And if that happened – the world could just freaking end" he muttered, and Trowa had to bite down on his lip to avoid laughing.

Wufei glared even more.

"I'd be happy to partner with you," Trowa offered to the braided man.

He looked taken aback by the offer and shuffled a few steps on his socked feet before shrugging one shoulder.

Trowa stepped closer and waited for the other man to settle his hands in place before he put his left hand on his shoulder and his right hand in the man's left.

He had danced with complete strangers since he was three and he had long ago learned not to care what the other person felt like – if their palm was sweaty or their skin rough or cold or hot – but the moment he felt the other man's fingers loosely wrap around his own Trowa had to swallow hard as just the touch of their skin sent a frisson of attraction through him.

"Sorry," the man said after a few minutes of silent dancing. "I'm not very good at this."

"Shoes tend to help," Trowa offered.

The man's eyes shot up to meet Trowa's, searching his expression.

"Just a suggestion," Trowa added softly, allowing himself to smile very slightly.

"I'll keep it in mind," the other man finally said. "But I dunno – if I wore shoes there's no way I could pull off the whole Risky Business slide."

"You're wearing too much for that, anyway," Trowa pointed out and instantly wanted to kick himself.

The other man's lips twitched into a smirk.

"I think your sister might crucify me if I showed up in just a shirt and socks."

Trowa had to smile at the mental image of Catherine's face if a student showed up looking like that.

"Probably safer to keep your pants on around her," Trowa agreed.

"Safety first," the man said with a decisive nod.

The rest of the dance was in silence and Trowa found himself reluctantly stepping away at the end.

"Thanks," the man said and nodded his head towards Wufei, "from saving me from that jerk."

"Anytime," Trowa said, looking down into the other man's eyes and thinking that he had never seen eyes that color before.

"Well done, everyone!" Catherine said. "That was an excellent first lesson. Practice at home and next week we will perfect the waltz and begin to learn the Fox Trot. Please, remember to arrive on time and wear appropriate shoes."

The man beside him winced at those words.

"I didn't think she noticed."

"Oh my God, Duo! You aren't wearing any shoes!"

Hilde walked over to them.

"Yeah, well, we were kind of in a hurry to leave and someone was standing in between me and the damn things."

"But why didn't you say anything? You've been – oh my God, Duo! You've spent this whole time dancing in your socks!" She started to giggle. "Let's get you home before you strip down to your shirt and try to pull a Risky Business move."

Duo snorted a laugh and looked back at Trowa.

"See, I _told _you," he said with a smirk. "See you next week," he added quickly.

Trowa nodded.

"Next week."

Hilde stopped laughing and looked between the two of them before grabbing Duo's arm and hauling him away, whispering intently into his ear and shooting another look at Trowa as they left.

Trowa winced. His flirting had been fairly obvious – no doubt Hilde was giving her boyfriend an earful right now.

Quatre and Wufei walked past him, Quatre thanking him profusely and smiling broadly while Wufei glared and then pulled him along mid-goodbye.

_I'm such a home wrecker_, Trowa thought to himself.

He noticed that Catherine had been cornered by Howard as the man thanked her again for being such a wonderful instructor and such a beautiful lady.

Catherine shot him a pleading look and with a sigh Trowa walked over to do his brotherly duty and send Catherine's hapless suitor on his way.

* * *

TBC


End file.
